Page 67 of Take Me Away, Cowboy

“The one and only. Cheated on Paige. Twice that she knew about. Married the second one while he was still coming to visit Paige.”

“Asshole,” Owen said. It made sense why she didn’t trust him, or anyone for that matter. And why she’d gotten so pissed about Julia. Seeing her brother raked over the same coals probably sent her over the edge. “Makes sense why she came to you about Julia.”

“I know,” Brad said, his voice soft. “At least now I do. It’s part of why I brought her the applications. I thought she was staying, but I couldn’t think of any other way to say I was sorry for acting like a prick.”

“I get it. No harm, no foul. She was gone anyway.” The alcohol slammed into Owen like a prize fighter all of a sudden. The day had, now that all was said and done, gotten the best of him. He wanted to know more about Paulo, but not tonight. He’d call Brad one day that week for some help with the baling, and maybe that would give them time to get into it.

He stood and took one of the whiskeys, raising it to the guys.

“Thanks for a good night, guys. I needed this.” He slung it back, hissing as it burned more than the last few had.

“We’ll do it again soon,” Steve said, standing to shake his hand.

“You bet.”

“Do you need a ride?” Brad asked, joining the other two but looking worse for the wear. Lemon drops or not, Owen bet Brad didn’t go out like this much. He was probably three sheets gone. Owen found the check, along with his card and a pen for him to sign for the shots.

Not too bad for a small town, he mused, leaving a generous tip. Poor girl had no idea the heartache heading for her.

“Not from you, buddy. Call him a cab?” Owen asked Steve, who nodded as he steadied his friend.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t drive,” Brad announced. Owen laughed.

“No man, you shouldn’t. I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Steve—be good. Have fun.”

Steve laughed heartily and nodded, then sat back down to wait out the server, whose name he still didn’t know. Owen thought back to his first few years in the Corps when he had no scruples and an insatiable libido, about how much simpler things had been back then.

“I’m-a gonna stay a bit. Have another,” Brad said.

“Have fun, man. You deserve it.” Owen waved them off and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

The chill of the fall air crept into the nights now, tucked under his shirt collar, sending a shiver down his spine. He popped the collar, shrugged his shoulders over his ears and walked down the road. It was quiet, another benefit to the small town. He’d never been anywhere that he could hear his own thoughts, and any night other than that night he’d have been appreciative, but in that moment, he didn’t like the idea of only himself for company. Too many demons had the chance to catch him off guard.

He looked at his watch. It was 12:03 a.m. It was tomorrow. Finally. Not that walking down the deserted country road between a bar and his new home was the way he imagined it, but this would be his fresh start, he promised himself. The rest had been his transition between the Corps and civilian life, and now it was time to buck up, get serious about the type of life he wanted to live, the person he wanted to be. The asshole who’d flipped out at Paige wasn’t him anymore, it just wasn’t. He’d sleep in just enough to take the edge off the hangover awaiting him, take care of some much-needed restocking of his supplies before the first fall storm blew in. Which didn’t seem that far off as the cold continued its hostile takeover of his body, starting from the top and working its way down. Then he’d get to work.

He saw more trail rides and runs and long fall nights on the deck he was fixing up with a beer after a full day’s work. The rest was foggy, but that was a good thing. It meant he had the time and space to mold the fog into a life he could be proud of.

Just as the chill in the air was about to wave the white flag for him, he rounded the corner a block from his place. He looked up at the apartment window above Paige’s parents’ garage, not surprised to see it dark, the shades drawn as he passed.

He had to start thinking about it as Alan and Marge’s place, Brad’s parents’ farm. Paige didn’t exist there, and maybe she never had. The timing for starting a relationship would be shit anyway right now. He needed to finish working on his farm to get it to the point where it was maintenance, not rehab, and he needed more than anything to chase his demons away once and for all.

A shiver tore down Owen’s spine as he thought about them, the past and the voices and the people he carried with him on his back, weighing him down. He jogged the last thirty yards to his house, bounded up the steps to his front door and shot up the stairs like he was being chased by the devil himself. He wanted them gone, all of them, and though it would take time, he wished he could exorcise the past and the haunting guilt that came with it.

The shitty thing was, he’d thought he was past it. Every night he’d spent with Paige was one without the crippling nightmares, without waking in a panic, watching his men die at his feet over and over again, a blooper reel of horror on a never-ending loop.

He closed his eyes, knowing sleep was still hours away from his bedside, wondering how she could leave when he only just realized how much he needed her. His thoughts ran him through the emotional equivalent of the crucible, making it impossible for him to notice anything else, including the lights that went on next door, and his phone that buzzed on the table next to him.

For all intents and purposes, Owen was dead to the outside world, even as it reached out to him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Things Fall Apart

Paige’s phone rang,shrill and siren-like as it echoed off the empty hospital walls.Dammit.She forgot to turn off the ringer, but really, who could blame her? The past three hours—no, scratch that, the past twenty-four hours—had been a whirlwind that made Hurricane Florence look like a tropical storm. She’d gone from having cancer to being cleared, to deciding she was dating Owen, to breaking up, to having her father fall off his ladder and end up in the hospital, unconscious, her mother a hysterical wreck until about half an hour earlier.

Her mom had looked out over washing the dinner dishes at Alan working on the barn windows, only to put a plate on the drying rack, look back, and not see him. She’d walked—calmly, she’d moaned to Paige in their car on the way to the hospital behind the ambulance—over to the window to find her husband lifeless on the ground, looking like a doll left behind by a toddler. She’d dialed 911, and without missing a beat, Paige in the next moment. All of this she’d shared through sobs while Paige had driven them to the hospital.

Unfortunately, Paige had dealt with the emotional roller coaster with no help from her brother, who she still hadn’t managed to get a hold of.

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